


Hounding and Loneliness

by Ishbella



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Loneliness, Nightmares, Past Abuse, withdrawals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishbella/pseuds/Ishbella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always wondered how Cullen got to the part where he was willing to ask Cassandra to be replaced. The sequence isn't canon but this was my thoughts on it.</p><p>Cullen suffers lyrium withdrawals worse than any he has suffered, they are constant and unending. He suffers nightmares and waking dreams on top of intense pain. constantly alone to wonder if his inquisitor will leave him or worse. His mind dreams up horrible and sad things during his time counting the days she is away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hounding and Loneliness

_Kiraka walked into his office with her face set into determined lines that were so unfamiliar to him. There was a hardness in her face that had never been directed his way, the hardness he had always feared to see directed at him. In this moment his beautiful woman was ice-y cold, like the statues of Andraste that adorned the small Chantry in the garden._

_He is confused and doesn’t know what he could have done to warrant such an expression. He tried to rise from his chair but the shakes caused by his withdrawals prevent it. His head is nearly busting from his headache, not even her tonic had been able to take the edge off this one. He felt dread pool in his belly, this isn’t right; this isn’t how this scenario normally plays out._

_In her hands she holds a box, it is plain and wooden and uncomfortably familiar. He knows that box, intimately. He hides a similar one in the bottom draw of his desk, it hums to him some days; the days he has the worst withdrawals and calls to him like an old lover. She slams it on his desk, well maybe slam is the wrong word but another doesn’t spring to mind. Slamming would require anger and he sees none in her frozen expression, her eyes are as hard as coloured crystal and there is only apathy and indifference in them and that is so much worse._

_He knows the words that are to come and he dreads them, fears them. Judging by her expression he can only guess she has learnt things he had kept from her out of fear. She has been away for weeks with Hawke and the Warden Alistair. The same Alistair who saw him couching on the ground in fear inside the purple barrier he is often still trapped in only in his dreams. The same Alistair who heard him try to convince Warden Amell to slaughter the remaining mages in the circle. The same Alistair who heard him say mages were weapons and could not be trusted. He regrets that he ever said those words, he has wished for years that he could take them back but he can’t._

_Traveling with Hawke who had heard him say yet again that mages weren’t people, they were weapons who needed to be locked away. He said those words to her only once but had repeatedly shown her over the years of their association that he felt that way. He had never shown her how his views had gradually changed, travelled with Hawke who he had defended Meredith’s insanity to._

_He knows the words that are to come, the meaning behind her apathetic expression and he fears it._

_“Commander” her voice is just as closed off from him as the rest of her, it makes him wince to hear his title said with such apathy. He feels like his heart is breaking. “You’re withdrawals are a danger to this Inquisition. Therefore I order that you immediately begin taking Lyrium again”_

_He wants to argue with her. To defend his actions to her, to fight for his right to quit lyrium but he can’t. He is a danger to the Inquisition with his near constant sickness, with the shaking and the delusions. He knows his screams from the nightmares scare the soldiers, sometimes he can hear them whispering to each other about it. His heart is breaking. This woman who was once so afraid of him becoming a Red Templar is now ordering him to take lyrium, the woman who had been relieved when he told her that he had stopped, that he had quit; was now ordering him to take it._

_“Why?” he hears himself ask. “I thought you respected my decision” His voice is hollow; it matches the hole he feels in his chest, like she had blown a hole in it with a shard of ice._

_She lets the mask of apathy slip and disgust fills her beautiful face. “You would serve the Inquisition better as a Templar. Because you owe the Inquisition the same dedication as you gave the Chantry. Because once a Templar always a Templar.” She pauses for a moment, her soft mouth turning up into a hard sneer. It holds only disgust for him. “Because it’s not like you’re anything to me”_

_She says the words she threw at him once in anger, words he had known she didn’t mean but she means them now. This time those horrible words aren’t said in anger; they’re thrown at him on purpose because she remembers how deep they had cut. Nothing in her expression says that she regrets them. Before she left for Crestwood he had been hoping that she was coming to love him, now while she had been away all the love she might have had for him had disappeared. His heart doesn’t so much break as it shatters, like it had been made of glass and she had just thrown it at the wall. Like a child with an unwanted toy._

_She turns on her heel and marches from the room without a backwards glance. As he stares at the box he can feel his tears run down his face. He had nothing left, no reason to not take lyrium. Lyrium would help him forget. He grabs the box and drags it roughly towards him and opens it. Inside the lid is a crude carving of Andraste holding the sword of mercy that was the Templar insignia. Red velvet holds the contents carefully in place. He sees inside is a vial of blue glowing liquid. It sings to him, calls to him like a desire demon; promising to help him forget; to help him forget everything. His hands remember how to cut and prepare the dose of lyrium like he had never stopped._

_Heart heavy he holds the made dose in his hands, the singing is louder now almost deafening. He yearns to have his chains in place now, to have the sweet liquid gold take away all his pain, his nightmares and his heart break. He takes a deep breath and puts the little glowing vial to his mouth and drinks._

 

Cullen bolted up right screaming; dimly he could feel the cold sweat on his brow. It had felt so real; he could still feel the pain her words had caused in his chest. Slowly his room in the darkness came into view; it was sparse with only a bed and a nightstand. The candles had long gone out. It had just been a nightmare, he thought to himself feeling relieved.

 

He flopped back down on his bed and began to wipe the sweat and tears from his face. It had just been a nightmare. She wouldn’t really do that, she cared for him. Didn’t she? Doubt welled up. The dream had felt so real. She had been so real. Maker, he needed her so much right now but she had left for Crestwood a few days ago. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had left so soon because her feelings for him were dying. No, he admonished, no she cared for him, she had always cared for him.

 

The headache that had dogged him for the last few days like a wolf on his heels was back in force. It was pounding him, making his head pulse terribly with each breath. His chest was hurting, like the Iron Bull had just jumped on it and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his withdrawals or lingering hurt from the dream. His heart was thudding hard, he breathed in deeply and winced slightly at the pain and tried to concentrate on the stars he could see through his open ceiling.

 

Four days, she had been away for four days. Did she miss him? He wondered as he watched the stars and the clouds. In the distance he could hear Maryden still singing in the Tavern. She was singing Kiraka’s favourite song. Maker, she had called it. He hoped she missed him as much as he missed her, he thought as he began to sing pretending it was her singing to him. Only four days out of eighteen, if she stayed on schedule. Maker’s breath he was lonely.

  __________________

 

His day wasn’t any better than his night had been; he was so exhausted from all the nightmares he had suffered. His head was pounding like a war drum and his stomach was rolling like the sea in a storm. His withdrawals were getting worse, he knew they were.  He had dragged himself out of bed this morning, getting dressed had been a struggle and the taking the morning drills had been a nightmare.

 

He was supposed to be doing his paperwork but his hand was shaking so much that his writing resembled chicken scratches. He was going to receive another lecture from Josephine about his writing he knew, her lecture would involve a lethal dose of guilt about working when he was sick. Maybe he should talk to Cassandra about a replacement? No, he thought shaking his head. He would manage and maybe tomorrow would be better.

 

__________________________

 

_He knelt in a purple sphere that hummed malevolently, a prison he couldn’t escape, bleeding from wounds cut through his armour, wounds that had been made to hurt not to kill. Surrounded by the desecrated bodies of his friends, the friends he had been forced to watch die one by one as they gave into the demon. Screaming in agony as she tore them apart piece by slow agonizing piece savoring every last bit of the torment she inflicted. Their entrails and blood covering the walls, covering him until he was the only one left._

_Left to the knowledge that he had been abandoned, by his Commander; expendable, unwanted, unneeded. Abandoned by the woman he had loved, she had fought to stay in the circle he knew but it hadn’t been for him and  in the end she had left for the grey wardens with nothing more than a backwards glance at him. She had never wanted him anyway, never once returned anything he might have taken as mutual feelings, not that he would have ever taken her up on it with the power imbalance between them but still. Discarded, trash, nothing. Unwanted. Not good enough._

_He was nothing, just the next in the long line of corpses and for what; a mage gone insane, drunk on blood magic. He had trusted them, wanted to helped them, loved one of them and where had it gotten him. Here. On his knees praying for the maker to guide him as he watched his friends die, as he watched that thing dangle the image of the woman he wanted in front of him to break him as she had the others. Sometimes she said she loved him, wanted him, hated him, cursed him and sometimes he had to watch as the image was violated again and again as the cruel voice laughed as he cried, as he prayed. Other times it violated him, everywhere and in every sick way possible, drawing frenzied delight from his screams as it hurt him over and over again just because it could._

_He was alone. Abandoned. Surrounded by death and blood. Screams not his own echoed down from the floor above as those he could not see were also tortured. He saw new abominations leave its door and head out into the tower. The tower he had once called home. The home that had abandoned him._

_He would not break as the others had. He would die whole and unpossessed. He would...._

 

He bolted up right in his bed, the sudden movement causing the frame supports to creak under his weight, the familiar sound grounding him and wrenching him to the present and out of his dreams. He was safe; there was no purple barrier, no demon and no Solona Amell. Thank the Maker, he thought as he flopped back down onto his mattress. The sky was cloudy tonight so he couldn’t see the stars; everything around him was darker than usual without the stars to light his night.

 

Six days, she had been away for six days now. She should have arrived at Crestwood now. He prayed for her safety and her return. Did she miss him, he wondered. Was she also being dogged with nightmares as he was?  What stories was Hawke telling her about him? Would she still care for him when she got back? He was afraid of the light in which Hawke might paint him, it would probably be unintentional but it worried him. He hadn’t exactly been a man he could be proud of during his time in Kirkwall. He had been lonely, depressed, suffered nightmares that had been held back by lyrium and angry. Most of all he had been angry, at all mages for what had been done to him in Ferelden Circle.

 

What if Alistair told her about his experiences in Kinloch Hold? Told her of the state they had found him in and the awful hateful bile he had spewed at them. Would she be disgusted with him? Would she look at him only see something broken? As far as he could tell she cared for him, she knew he was damaged but would she stay if she knew how badly? His doubts were beginning to eat him alive. She deserved better he knew, she deserved someone whole and without nightmares. Someone who hadn’t suffered, who wasn’t haunted; he knew all that like he knew his own face but maker he didn’t want her to leave him. Would she abandon him too?

 

He could feel his tears slide down his face as he watched the cloudy sky over his room.

 ___________________

 

The eighth day the Inquisitor was away Cullen had to tighten his belt an extra notch, his pants were too loose now. His withdrawals were making him so sick now he had barely been able to consume any food for at least three days. His hands shook violently; the paper he wasted was costing the Inquisition a fortune.

 

Only his stubbornness got him through the morning drills and the endless meetings that had been required afterwards because today was the roster rotation. The looks of concern from his men were now undisguised but so far no one had the guts to say anything although he knew there would be whispers. He was letting her down, not doing his job properly.

 

Varric came to check on him, sat and chatted to him which gave him an excuse to take a much needed break. He was secretly grateful for that. He gave him a letter from the Inquisitor; it cheered him more than he would ever admit to receive a letter from her, despite the fact that her letters were mostly just formal reports.

 

_Cullen,_

_We have arrived in Crestwood now, I was greeted by a very upset Lace Harding and you know that barely anything can faze her. The rift is visible though the water in the lake, it would look pretty if one were unsure of what it was. The water bubbles up green around it. I fear I shall never be dry; the rift appears to be causing a constant rain on the area._

_Solas is already annoying me; did you know he dislikes Grey Wardens? Well I do, he has ranted about little else. I am going to leave him in the Village to tend to any wounded once we arrive there. Which I will admit was the purpose of bringing him in the first place._

_When we reach the Village I will be asking the mayor how I drain the lake, it is caused by a massive dam. I dread to think how many smaller rifts have popped up in the area because of this big one. You’ll also be happy to know. That’s sarcasm you’re going to be very unhappy to know I can hear a dragon roar in the distance, I’ve seen her fly around the dam. She’s too far away to see what aspect she is but knowing my luck and with all this water it will be a lightning dragon. Good thing I brought that armour with me just in case._

_I can also see that small fort Leliana told me to take on behalf on the Inquisition. I’m planning on leaving Blackwall to have it set up while I deal with the rift. Speaking of Blackwall did you know he doesn’t like Cole, or Dorian? What I underestimated was the degree of his dislike. Right now he has been trading snarks with Solas about Grey Wardens. Why did I bring these people? I swear I took a blow to the head before I left._

_Hawke and I are becoming friends, she has a lot of good stories and she is teaching me how to play wicked grace better. I should be able to surprise Varric when I get back. Hopefully it means I also won’t lose so much coin in my games with him._

_I miss you so much. I hope you are well and your withdrawals haven’t been bad. I’m still sorry I left so soon and didn’t get to spend much time with you. I’ll be home soon._

_Kiraka_

 

Maker, a rift so large it was affecting the water in the lake. He had read the reports but somehow when she told him it sounded worse. Worse yet was the threat of another dragon. While it was a relief to know she missed him, that she still cared for him; he was afraid. He hadn’t expected a dragon, and the size of a rift able to affect the water of a lake put her in more danger than physical.

 

___________________________________

 

The thoughts of the rift and the damage it could do to his mage lover wouldn’t leave Cullen’s mind. Once Varric had left him alone in his office the thought and the fear had consumed him. It was amplified by his withdrawals he knew, lack of lyrium caused Paranoia, nightmares and delusions as well as physical pain. This was the longest bout of withdrawals he had ever had, it hadn’t let up in just under a week. He felt guilt and shame rise up; it was affecting his work more than it ever should have, maybe he no longer deserved to be Commander. No, I will not allow it to beat me, he thought shaking his head, trying to drive the traitorous thought from his head and returning to his papers.

 

Idly his sleep weakened mind turned to a terribly thought. What kind of demon would tempt her? Hunger? No he couldn’t imagine that. Hunger dogged many different things but he had never felt she hungered for anything. Rage? Possibly he had to admit. She had a terrible temper sometimes, often used anger to get through situations she found hard. Desire? He winced at the thought, he had been trapped by a desire demon once and the memory of it haunted his nights. He would hate for that to happen to his beautiful Inquisitor, for her to suffer as he did until she gave up like his fellow Templars had. Pride? He had never thought she desired power nor had the personality that would draw in a Pride demon. If any mage in Skyhold was likely to fall to a demon of Pride it would be Vivienne. Sloth? Normally he would have thought not until he remembered her more recent losses. She could succumb to a Despair demon; she had suffered since joining the Inquisition.

 

He dropped his quill; it splattered droplets of ink onto his page ruining it. He would need to start this report again; he knew and lowered his head into his hands. An old memory swelled up melding with the new worries.

 

_A woman stood in the doorway, her face streaked with heavy tears and her blonde hair hanging matted down her face. “…Cullen” she began her voice breaking in despair before trailing off. She gave him one pleading sorrowful look before she wailed. The pitch of it shattered the bottle of wine on his desk spilling red blood like liquid across his paperwork._

_He watched in horror as he skin boiled like water on a fire. Like the skin on her back had under dragonling fire. She let loose another shriek, full of pain and sorrow, all grief and despair. It had him clasping his hands over his ears and closing his eyes.  When he looked back up he saw with horror that she was no longer there. In the door way was a demon he would never forget, ragged black clothing, skeletal limbs like a starved corpse. The face was no longer the one he had loved so much, it was full of large rat like teeth bared against withered lips. He could no longer see her eyes, those beautiful eyes that turned warm and cold, filled with mischief._

 

“Commander Cullen” He heard dimly, it sounded like it came from a long way away. He shrugged it off, lost in his own private horror.

 

_One look at her and he knew she had fallen into despair. He shivered at the coldness the demon had brought into his already cold office. Maker’s breath, she was gone…_

 

“Commander!” this time the call and the rough hands shaking him jerked him out of his painful reverie. He focused on the person in front of him and saw it was his Lieutenant.

 

“What!” he spat out harsher than he intended. He watched as the man winced slightly but didn’t back down, if anything he looked more determined.

 

“It is nearly time for the officer’s meeting” he said his voice and face laced with concern and worry. “You were staring off and shaking. You’re crying Ser”

 

Cullen’s hand flew to his face and he found that his Lieutenant was correct. He felt the wet sticky tears on his face and brushed them away feeling embarrassed. It had felt so real, almost as if she had really been standing there in the door way. He muttered apologies to his officer in between wiping his face.

 

“I’ll take the meeting Ser. You should go a lie down.” The sternness mixed with care in the man’s voice made him look up.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant.” He grumbled out trying to sound convincing.

 

“Go, Ser. Go and lie down in her room for a while. If you don’t, I’ll have Seeker Pentaghast drag you there” The look he gave Cullen was hard, he wasn’t bluffing.

 

“Traitor” he grumbled knowing he was beaten as he dragged himself from his chair. His legs gave out from the unexpected use and he had to grab the side of the desk and hold on. His head swam and pounded like waves on the rocks. Unsteadily he made his way out of his office, towards her rooms.

 

On the eighth day of the Inquisitor being away Cullen began having waking nightmares.

_____________________

 

The first few nights of sleeping in the Inquisitors bed instead of his own had helped a little with his nightmares. He woke up feeling not so tired for the first time in a week. He had only woken up once rather than four or five times. Her scent was now on everything in the room and it helped to calm him.

 

It did nothing to help him during the day, visions and waking nightmares began to plague him as the withdrawals played on his fears. Every day was filled with pounding headaches and nausea, his pages blotted from his shaking hands.

 

Leliana and Varric had taken to spending a lot of time in his office fussing over him; he also had frequent visits from Cassandra and Vivienne. Vivienne would bring him healing potions to help with the growing effects. It wounded his pride to know that he had fallen so low that so many people had noticed. Vivienne’s potions took the edge of his headaches and shakes for which he was thankful.

 

Noticing he wasn’t eating Sera had also taken it upon herself to start bringing him food, most of it ended up being tossed over the battlements when the smell of it overwhelmed him but he would eat the cake she brought. He lost more weight; his belt was now three notches tighter.

 

After the first few nights in her bed his nightmares resumed with interest. Her scent was now gone from the sheets and blankets, to be replaced by the smell of his cold sweat. He often found himself staring at the wall lost in thoughts about whether or not she had been killed by the dragon, if she would come back injured. The worst were the thoughts of Alistair and Hawke telling her about his past, of her coming back and telling him she couldn’t love him, or her falling in love with Alistair instead. From his memory the man had been good looking, Solona had obviously thought so. The Inquisitor in his bias opinion was a much better looking woman than the Warden, surely Alistair would notice that.

 

As a result of his private fears his nightmares and day-mares for worse. They were varied now, no longer just his terrible memories of Kirkwall and Kinloch Hold. They weighed heavily on his mind and even from her tower sometimes he could have sworn he heard the song of the lyrium in his desk. It called to him now and he ached for the blue to make his pain go away.

 

He would go and talk to Cassandra tomorrow morning about being replaced. It would probably take him a few days to convince her it was for the best, that it was what the Inquisition needed. She wouldn’t be happy but he would make her see sense, that her trust in him was misplaced. That he couldn’t do this and was a risk to everything that had been built.

 

 

 

 


	2. Testing the Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inquisitor finds Cullen having a lyrium withdrawal breakdown. weeks of nightmares have driven him to breaking point and she helps him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game dialogue mostly used, made a few changes here and there. it's why this took so long

It had been a long hard ride back to Skyhold and Kiraka’s worry had only made it feel longer, she had been sullen and quiet the whole trip, lost to her own personal fears and worries. She pushed them to ride as fast as possible and often became snappish when she was informed that everyone including the horses needed a rest, she would have happily run the horses to death if there had been any means of acquiring more of the same quality.

  
For all her surliness and temper they had made good time, Dennet’s horses were indeed the best in Ferelden. Each night when they were forced to stop Kiraka played the lute, it helped to calm her nerves and distracted her mind for a few hours. Sleep was as full of nightmares as it had been in Crestwood but not all of them woke her up screaming and for that everyone in the party was thankful. It had only taken them three and a half days to reach home.

  
As she had requested the welcome horns didn’t sound when they entered through the outer portcullis. No one was waiting for them when they arrived and knowing she couldn’t wait any longer Dorian took Kiraka’s horse to the stables to be groomed for her. Once free of her horse she bolted up the ramp near the stables to the battlements and into Cullen’s office, without even bothering to get changed or have a bath first.

  
Cullen was not in his office, instead leaning against the front of his desk was one of Leliana’s scouts. The woman looked extremely bored, she was picking under her nails with her belt knife and stopped abruptly when she saw who entered the office.

  
“Where’s the Commander?” Kiraka asked hoping he was resting but she knew in her gut that he wasn’t.

  
“The Commander has gone to meet with Lady Cassandra” the scout answered nervously. She knew that Kiraka wasn’t going to be happy with her answer and wasn’t sure what I do about it.

  
“Thank you” she answered stiffly before walking out of the office using the opposite door. Cullen and Cassandra were friends, perhaps she was just making him take a break. The letter she had gotten had been urgent but part of her hoped desperately that he was feeling better, that he hadn’t gotten any worse in the four days it had taken her to return.

  
She noticed on her hurried walk to Cassandra’s training dummies that she getting a lot of relieved looks from the soldiers patrolling the battlements. That wasn’t a good sign. A few times as she passed she thought she heard a fervent whispered “thank the Maker she’s back” and “now he’ll get better”. She picked up her pace.

  
Cassandra wasn’t by her training dummies which meant she had taken him to talk privately with her in the blacksmith, or so she would have guessed if she couldn’t clearly hear their heated argument from where she was standing.

  
“If I am unable to fulfil what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face then….” Kiraka could hear Cullen angrily yelling this to Cassandra as she opened the door.

  
He spun as the door opened, his face initially angry at the interruption but it fell when he saw her, it changed into an expression of shame mixed with horror. He stood still for a moment in shock before he began to slink from the room. He looked utterly defeated and so ashamed of himself, she hadn’t seen that expression in his face since the day Haven was overrun.

  
“Forgive me” was all he said to her when she reached out to stop him for leaving. He walked from the room without another word or backwards glance at her.

  
“And people say I’m stubborn, this is ridiculous” Cassandra said as he left. She sounded totally fed up, clearly they had been having that argument for a while and she had been unable to get through to him. She was worried about him, it was as plain as the scar on her face but her vexation with him was clear too.

  
“He’s Ferelden, what did you expect?” she replied turning towards the woman. Cassandra would give her answers, she wasn’t going to like them but at least she would know more than she did now. Hopefully get some idea on how to help him.

  
“Cullen told you he’s no longer taking lyrium?” Cassandra asked ignoring the comment. It was an innocent enough question, Cullen was often tight lipped about his problems, preferring to keep things to himself out of habit; the same as she had in the Circle. Neither the Order or the Circle had ever offered any who served under it or in it any support, more often than not leaving the person to twist in the wind.

  
“Yes, and I respect his decision” if she was honest she approved of the decision but she had never said anything about it. It wasn’t her decision to make and unless he specifically asked her for her opinion and she wasn’t going to burden him with it. He knew however that she feared him being corrupted by red lyrium, she had nightmares about it often enough that most people had noticed, the worst of the dreams occurred when she was out in the field but they sometimes dogged her nights at Skyhold too.

  
“As do I, not that he’s willing to listen. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused it’s not necessary, besides it would destroy him. He’s come so far.” Cassandra was absolutely convinced that he didn’t need to be replaced, she was calm but frustrated. She was right however, being replaced after he had worked so hard and been through so much would destroy him. He had so little confidence in his ability to command as it was, like he didn’t feel he deserved it. It wasn’t surprising after what happened in both Kirkwall and Ferelden.

  
“Why didn’t he come to me?” Kiraka asked feeling like a fool. He couldn’t have asked her even if he wanted to. She had been away for a little over two weeks now and there was no way he would ever write to her about his problems, she knew there were many times when she had been away that he had bad withdrawals and he never said a word to her.

  
“We had an agreement long before you joined us, as a Seeker I could evaluate the dangers. And he wouldn’t want…to risk your disappointment” Cassandra explained reasonably. It was true, Seekers oversaw the Templars back when the Order was still apart of the Chantry and she would understand what he was going through even though she had never been addicted to lyrium. The worrying part was why Cullen thought she would be disappointed in him.

  
“Why would I be disappointed?” she asked giving voice to her internal question. “Is there anything we can do to change his mind?” Maker’s breath I’ll do anything to help him get through this, she thought feeling anxious. She would have to be careful how she handled this, ordering him to take a break was likely not going to help him. He had things that were eating him up inside, maybe if she could get him to voice them she could calm him down. Ordering him to take a break could come later.

  
“If anyone could, it’s you” Cassandra said with complete and utter faith “Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order mind and soul. With someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself -and anyone who would follow suit– that it is possible. He can do this, I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now is the time.” she continued before walking away leaving Kiraka alone in the forge with her thoughts. She would have to be very delicate with how she handled this, her normal approach would probably just incur his anger. Take her cues from his body language and words rather than just handle it how she wanted to.

  
She retraced her path back to his office, coming up the ramp near the tavern. There was more whispering and solicitous looks as she passed, clearly Cullen had come this way. She hesitated outside his office for a moment, trying to decide if she should give him a few more minutes to calm down or go in there and get this over with. It didn’t take long for her to decide, her worry winning out. She opened the door and stepped through just as something hard and breakable hit the wall just at head level.

  
It was a small wooden box, the lid snapped off with the force of the collision spilling the contents on the floor. One tiny bottle smashed on the ground and splashed her boots with bright blue glowing liquid, a small blue pool flowed out another broken bottle and across the stone floor. Lyrium, he had just smashed his lyrium kit. Fuck, she swore mentally as she registered what the box was. He was close to deciding he couldn’t deal with his withdrawals anymore. So close to making a rash decision he might regret later.

  
“Maker’s breath I didn’t hear you enter…I” his voice was laced with pain and he was out of breath. He also sounded absolutely horrified to have nearly hit her with the box. It was the worst she had ever seen him. “Forgive me” this he said in a hollow tone, in a way Kiraka thought this tone was worse he was already pushing her away, mentally distancing himself from her and fearing her reaction.

  
“Well as long as you weren’t aiming at me, I’m sure the box deserved it” she joked trying to lighten his guilt over it a little. “Cullen, if you need to talk?” she continued more seriously. She wanted to help him; he looked so lost and tormented but she didn’t know how yet. She needed him to talk to her and for once she was going to have to push for her answers.

  
“You don’t have to…” he began before a convulsion of pain caused his knees to buckle. He gripped the desk suddenly to steady himself causing a few bottles on it to shake violently. She came forward to help him but he waved her away not wanting comfort “I never meant for this to interfere” he was gripping the desk with both hands now taking deep breaths to steady himself as sweat trickled down his face.

  
“Dammit Cullen, you are not an interference or a distraction. Are you going to be alright?” she said losing her patience with him for a moment. He was not an interference and he needed to know that.

  
“Yes…I don’t know” he had started to lie to her and then sighed and said the truth knowing she wouldn’t even believe such a lame lie. He pushed himself off the desk resolutely. “You asked what happened to Ferelden’s Circle, it was taken over by abominations. The Templars –my friends- were slaughtered.” He said all in an angry rush. He seemed to need her to hear this, had finally reached the point where he needed to get it out. He turned and walked to the window, and leaned on the wall for support as he looked down at the snowy hills below. “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind and I –how can you be the same person after that.” he continued not looking at her. He sounded so frustrated with himself.

He gave a self-derisive laugh and glared in her direction, daring her to come and console him. “Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight Commander, and for what hmm? Her fear of mages ended in madness.” it sounded like he was telling her that he could no longer trust his judgement and that he blamed himself for not seeing her madness earlier. He had probably defended her against those who spoke out against her methods.

  
Her mind was brought back to the first time they had met and how he hadn’t looked at mages like they were people, hadn’t looked at her like she was a person. Yes, he would have defended her up to a point. He had still been a good man but that had mostly been due to ingrained character rather than life experience. How many Templars in Kirkwall had suffered at the hands of the Mages who had fought back against the harsh treatment with blood magic and became cruel, she wondered. Kirkwall had been a nightmare for both Templars and Mages under Meredith, and yet he didn’t appear to blame her. Only himself.

  
“Kirkwall’s Circle fell, innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?” his voice was hollow and held a pleading note that brought her out of her private thoughts. He was looking at her now, like he was waiting for an answer.

  
“Of course I can, I…” she began thinking he wanted her genuine opinion but he cut her off angrily.

  
“Don’t. You should be questioning what I’ve done” he growled out through clenched teeth. Cullen began to pace in front of her, as she leant on his desk to wait it out. “I thought this would be better –that I would gain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me…” he sounded so disappointed with himself, with what he perceived as weakness. He also clearly wasn’t going to elaborate on what thoughts specifically were bothering him.

  
“How many lives depend on our success?” he said, berating himself as he paced towards his bookshelves before turning to face her. “I swore myself to this cause…I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!” he turned suddenly and punched the bookshelf behind him, he didn’t knock anything off but it banged loudly against the stone wall. “I should be taking it.” he repeated trying to convince himself.

  
While he still hadn’t voiced what had drove him to this point she guessed that this had been preying on his mind for a while. It appeared more a case of the straw that broke the horse’s back rather than anything in particular. His sense of duty was too strong, he had this notion of self-sacrifice in his head, that he had to give up everything he wanted in his life for the cause he had sworn himself to when he was a child. A noble ideal that he clung to, well he could have the ideal but she would show him; would make him see that he mattered as well. That he mattered to her. That he would serve better happy and willing than tormented and miserable, serving just because his sense of duty demanded it.

  
“Cullen, this doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition.” She told him forcefully coming forwards “Is this what you want?” If this decision was to be hers then it would be what he wanted and not ‘for the Inquisition’. She would do better by him than his previous Commanders, she would do better for everyone serving under her than his previous Commanders.

  
“No” he said simply turning to look away from her. She came to stand in front of him and placed a hand on his jaw, making him look at her, his beautiful honey eyes were haunted and the purple bruise like marks under them told her he hadn’t been sleeping properly again. “But…these memories have always haunted me, if they become worse, if I cannot endure this…” He said trying to voice a fear that he wasn’t strong enough. He had so much self doubt, once he got through this; maybe if he got through this rough patch he would learn to have more confidence in himself.

  
“You can.” She said confidently as she rubbed her thumb affectionately against his stubble. “I know you can. Cassandra knows you can too. You’re the only one in Skyhold who thinks you can’t” she continued needing him to understand.

  
The agonized lines in his face eased and he gave her a ghost of a smile. “Alright” he breathed sounding more confident. He still sounded weary and in pain but no longer as tormented, he stood up a little straighter as the weight fell from his shoulders. He needed to rest.

  
“You should rest. Why don’t you go to my room and lie down for a while, I’ll make you something to help you sleep and I’ll let Cassandra know that you’re not being replaced or taking lyrium.” she said offering him a loving smile. He didn’t answer, just nodded and she stepped back to allow him to pass. The worst of it was over, she could fuss now.  
She leant on the door frame as she watched him make his slightly unsteady way across the bridge to the library, mentally making a list of things she needed to do for him. Thank the Maker they had gotten through that without her flat out having to order him away from lyrium.

  
Now that the crisis was over her adrenalin was wearing off leaving her feeling tired and sore, she desperately needed a bath and clean clothes. She would ask Josephine if she could borrow her bath but she would make Cullen’s potion first and speak to Cassandra. She was dreading seeing her wounds; seeing the damage done by the bolt of lightning that she could feel on her shoulder more specifically. She knew she was a patchwork of bruises too. With a heavy sigh she pushed herself off the door frame.

  
___________________________

  
He could hardly believe it when she walked through the door of the blacksmiths, she hadn’t been due back for another two to four days and yet there she was; walking in at the worst possible time. The Maker had a sense of humour. He had slunk out of the room like a whipped dog, afraid of her disappointment and yet knowing it was inevitable. As he marched up to his office he couldn’t help but notice the relief on his guards faces. They had obviously seen the Inquisitor.

  
He walked into his office and went to his desk. He could hear his lyrium kit singing to him as it had been doing for days now. The sweet siren call of numbness. He pulled it out of the draw he kept it in, he had never shown it to anyone. Even Cassandra didn’t know he still had it, but he hadn’t been able to get rid of it. He stood staring at it, trying to reach a decision. It was all too much, the pain, the nightmares, the memories. He wasn’t giving his all to the Inquisition, wasn’t giving it the same amount of dedication that he had given the Chantry. He would need to make her see that, see that he didn’t deserve to be the Commander of her armies.

  
Part of him was afraid that she would disregard his wishes and have him take lyrium, as she had in his nightmares and another part was reminding him of her fears about red lyrium corruption in the ranks and that she wouldn’t want him back on the leash; that she cared what he wanted. Her expression when she walked into the blacksmiths hadn’t been cold or distant, she had looked worried and tired, which meant she probably still didn’t know about his past. He needed to tell her about Ferelden, make her understand what kind of person he was. To tell her about Kirkwall so she would know his judgment was flawed.

  
He should be taking his lyrium, he should never have tried to quit. The withdrawals were interfering with his ability to do his job. He wasn’t strong enough to quit, to put his memories, his fears and his regrets behind him. So many lives depended on them, her life depended on him being able to do his job properly. He hadn’t been able to do that at all in the last two weeks, his constant nightmares and pain making it impossible.

  
He had been so lost in his misery that he hadn’t heard her come in and even worse he had nearly hit her with his lyrium kit when he threw it at the wall in a rage. It was worse than the time he had lashed out in his sleep that time at least she had cast a barrier to protect herself from him; this time he had nearly hurt her. The blue had sung to him as it flowed slowly across the floor, he was going to have to call someone to clean that up but he knew he would be able to smell it on the stones for months. Nothing could take away the smell of lyrium.

  
She had joked it off before asking him if he was alright, it was so like her to be so concerned about his welfare. He didn’t deserve it, he knew he would never deserve it so he had tried to push her away. It was hard to push away the only person who could make you feel better but he had things he needed to tell her first, things she was going to hate him for. Soon she would understand just how broken he was.

  
She had listened to his rant without comment, just waiting patiently for him to get what he needed off his chest. She had even tried to comfort him but he had snapped at her, even after everything he had said the look in her eyes hadn’t changed. They had stayed warm and caring. Maker he didn’t deserve this woman.

  
In all the dreams he had of this conversation while she had been away, she had told him to go back on lyrium. Nothing could have prepared him for her response. Not only had she asked him what he wanted but she had told him he could quit lyrium, that she had confidence in him. How long had it been since someone had asked him what he wanted? Maker he couldn’t even remember. He felt like he was dreaming and would wake up and find her still away in Crestwood. Maker’s breath he didn’t deserve her, he thought dazedly as he staggered to her room. If this was a dream he hoped he wasn’t going to wake up.

_________________________

  
Cullen was curled up in her bed when she came upstairs, his armour neatly folded on the couch by the fire. He sat up when he heard her footsteps on the heavily rugged floor, he was looking a little better. Now that he was just in his undershirt and breeches she could see how thin he had gotten while she was away, he had lost quiet a bit of muscle mass and fat he couldn’t afford to lose. His face was gaunt now that she looked closely and his shoulders were slimmer, she hoped he would put it back on quickly.

  
She handed him the little green bottle with his potion in it, this was a sleeping draught she used to give the Templars in her tower. She watched as he downed it in one swift swallow before he winced and made a face. This potion was bitter as hell, since it was made from royal elfroot, rashvine nettle and prophets laurel. It would help him get to sleep and keep the nightmares at bay but wouldn’t keep him asleep as some of the other sleeping tonics did. None of her potions ever contained lyrium so she never needed to worry about that.

  
“I’m going to go have a bath. Get some sleep, sweetheart.” she said gently, pressing a kiss into his forehead.

  
He flopped back down with a huff and nodded. “Why are you back so early? You weren’t due to return for another couple of days.” he asked putting an arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to look at her. She resisted the urge to get mad at him for trying to get replaced while she was away.

  
“Because Varric was worried and sent me a letter.” she said walking around the bed to her chest of draws on the opposite side of the room. It only took her a moment to find her comfortable spare clothes. When he didn’t answer she turned back to him, his arm was still over his eyes. It looked like he needed some time alone to process everything. “You owe him a drink when you’re feeling better” she told him gently.

  
Quietly she walked out of the room, leaving him in peace and quiet. She would be back in an hour or so after she was clean. She had to speak to Harritt about getting her armour repaired and a new set made, also a new staff. He was probably getting sick of replacing her gear after every mission but light armour just wasn’t durable. Thankfully a broken staff meant that they couldn’t leave until a new one was made, she wanted to spend a few days in Skyhold this time, especially until she knew that Cullen was feeling better.

  
Josephine had the bath in her room ready for Kiraka. Her rooms were lovely, little touches of her personality were all over the room. Her bed was a huge Orlais style monstrosity with a pink satin bed cover and matching drapes. There was a full length dress mirror in the corner of the room next to a long dark wood dressing table. The copper tub was discreetly hidden behind an elaborately carved wooden modesty screen. The designs carved into the wood was a collection of flowers and scroll work reflecting her love of the gardens and books.

  
The sight of the large copper tub filled with steaming water nearly made her cry, it was wonderful to be home and just be able to have a hot bath. The soap Josephine used was orange and bergamot, and while she longed for her usual lavender soap at this point any soap was good soap.

  
When she took her armour off she saw all the bruises in the long dress mirror, no wonder everything hurt. She was a beautiful patchwork of black and blue. A huge black bruise with red dots spread all along her right hip, where she landed after being hit with the dragon’s tail, another was spread across her leg. There was a deep purple bruise on her rib cage. A blue bruise spread across her tail bone and both her forearms were bruised as well.

  
Over her left shoulder was a bright red lightning flower, it spread across the top of the her shoulder and spread down over her shoulder blade in an intricate painful looking design and down her back, stopping at the burn mark. Another portion of the flower spread a short way over her shoulder and over her left breast, the final portion trailed down her arm to the elbow. The design reminded her of what a leafless tree looked like or perhaps the pattern of herb roots, it was pretty in a red painful sort of way. She knew she should heal her injuries before Cullen saw them but right now she was just too tired, her mana was still low due to a combination of her injuries, lack of food and proper rest.

  
She sunk into the bath with a blissful sigh, the water easing her aches and pains. She soaked for a little while before she began the arduous task of washing the dirt and old blood from her hair and skin. When she was finished the water was an ugly murky brown. Kiraka was sitting on the edge of Josephine’s bed finally dressed in her clean comfortable sleeping clothes, drying her hair when the maids came in to empty the bathtub. It was something she never allowed them to do for her, preferring to empty her own bath water.

  
Cullen was asleep when Kiraka finally got back to her room, her weariness dragging her to the bed to join him. Trying not to wake him, she carefully slid herself under the blankets and cuddled up beside him and felt one warm muscled arm snake around her waist and pulled her closer as he rolled into her. She wrapped an arm around his waist and clutched the front of his shirt with the other, snuggling in and enjoying his closeness. It felt wonderful to have him next to her again, to be surrounded by his scent, hear his breathing, actually be warm. It felt so good to be home.

  
She was still worried about him but she had a feeling that he would be alright now, that this had been the worst of it and now slowly he would get better. Hopefully her books on Lyrium would arrive soon and she could read up on what he was going through and work on finding ways to help him. It took her a while before she finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  
____________________

Cullen could still barely believe what happened yesterday, and he was still half expecting to wake up. Maker’s breath, she still wanted him. It seemed to much like a dream to be true. When he had woken up this morning she had been curled around him, her legs tangled in his and fast asleep. Surprisingly was that for the first time since she had left for Crestwood he hadn’t woken up with a blinding headache and more importantly he hadn’t suffered a single nightmare, and neither had she.

  
He disentangled himself from her arms and legs to look down at her. Her hair was sprayed haphazardly on the pillow behind her, strands of it had fallen across her face and fluttered slightly, blown by her rhythmic breathing. Her face was bare of makeup, or rather bare of magic after her bath. He remembered once that he had looked down on her like this and thought he would never be able to get used to it. He had been such a fool then, so blinded by his doubts and envy to see that she had cared for him more than a friend. He smiled to himself at the thought that now only he ever got to see her like this, hair sprayed out and bare of makeup.

  
It had been an incredibly rough couple of weeks for him but he could see now with her curled in only her light linen sleeping clothes that it had been hard on her too. She had lost weight and he could see one black bruise on her forearm, where her sleeves had ridden up her arm in her sleep. She had come home days early to be with him because Varric had sent her a letter that he needed her; and if he knew her, which he did, she would have made her traveling companions lives miserable the entire trip back. He would have to buy that Dwarf a drink or several drinks.

  
He didn’t deserve her, Cullen thought still smiling to himself as he kissed her forehead and slipped gently out of the bed. Quietly he dressed, it was unlikely that he would wake her up. Usually she slept like the dead but it was always the hardest to wake her on the first morning she was back from the field. Still despite that he always tried to be as quiet as possible just in case.

  
Once Cullen was dressed he went into the small room behind the bed where her wash basin was. Since he had taken to sleeping in her room the last few days his razor and hair products were here, he would need to remove them later. He didn’t want her to think he was pressuring her for more commitment than she was ready to give him. Looking in the small mirror he saw that he really needed to shave, he hadn’t been able to for a few days because of the unsteadiness in his hands. Leliana had done it for him once during the worst of his withdrawals, he had been so ill that she hadn’t even teased him about it. The woman was all to good with knives for comfort, exposing his throat to her had been a terrifying experience.

  
Kiraka was still sleeping peacefully when he came back into the room but he saw that she had moved into the spot he had slept in. Curling into the warmth his body had left behind. They were both too thin now, their bodies punished by stress and poor eating habits. He would bring breakfast up, would wake her up to have breakfast with him. He also needed to thank her before he lost his nerve. If she hadn’t come to see him he might have left the Inquisition or gone back on lyrium. He needed to thank her and reassure her that he would be alright, or she would worry herself sick.


End file.
